A Baby by Easter

by Lois Richer

  His hands tightened into balls of anger. Dummy. The one put-down Darla hated most of all. No wonder she’d run.

  “I was really scared, Darla,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know if you’d been hurt or got lost or what had happened. I was ready to call the police.”

  “The police?” Her eyes grew huge, then flared. “But I didn’t do anything wrong!” She stamped her foot.

  Susannah cleared her throat. Darla’s entire demeanor altered.

  “I’m sorry, Davy,” she said. “I did do something wrong. I know it. And I won’t do that ever again. I promise. Okay?”

  Those big brown eyes—they always got to him. Peering up at him so adoringly from the first day he’d seen her in her bassinet. The innocence was still there.

  “Okay. I forgive you.”

  She threw her arms around him in an exuberant hug and nearly squeezed the breath out of him. Behind her, Susannah hid her grin behind her hand.

  “Thank you, Davy.” Darla was all smiles now. “So can we stay for dinner? I helped,” she said proudly.

  “If Connie says it’s okay,” he muttered, knowing he’d been bested.

  “She will.”

  He watched his sister and Susannah share a grin before Darla hurried into the house.

  “She was very hurt by that Matchett person’s comment,” Susannah murmured.

  He nodded.

  “She hates to be called dumb.” He studied her. “What did you say to her?”

  “What makes you think I said anything?” She preceded him into the house.

  “Connie seems to think the two of you have developed some kind of rapport.” He couldn’t help but notice the way Susannah’s face tightened.

  “You don’t like that, do you?” she challenged. “You don’t think someone like me should be anywhere around Darla.”

  “I don’t think that at all,” he argued.

  “Darla is a lot smarter than you give her credit for, Mr. Foster.”

  “My name is David.”

  Susannah paused in the foyer, her face serious. “Your sister is very smart, David. She craves your attention. She feels alone and she desperately wants to please you.” She tilted her head to one side, watching him. “I’m no psychiatrist, but I think Darla wants to prove to you that she’s good at something. Hence the reciting of commercials and such.”

  “That’s—interesting,” he said.

  “She could do so many things.” Susannah’s voice grew intense. “But she says you won’t let her try. You’re afraid she’ll hurt herself. That’s hard on her.”

  “Uh—”

  “You don’t think I know what I’m talking about. I get that. I guess I wouldn’t listen to me, either. I don’t have any credentials and I’m not exactly a walking advertisement for responsibility. But please, don’t write off Darla’s ideas too quickly. That’s worse to her than being called dumb.”

  She’d put her hand on his arm as she spoke, imploring him to listen. David glanced at it. Susannah only then seemed aware of what she’d done and hurriedly jerked her hand away.

  “Never mind,” she whispered and hurried toward the others.

  All through dinner David kept watch over his sister and the woman she seemed to adore. Darla told Susannah all about the pottery she’d made in her therapy classes, but it was the first time David had heard that she missed working with clay.

  Or that she didn’t like the outfit she wore. His choice.

  Susannah Wells had been busy.

  “Aren’t they great together?” Connie sat by him in the family room, watching Susannah and Darla with Silver outside in the courtyard. “Darla has a way with flowers, David. She repotted several cacti with Hornby this afternoon and you know he never lets anyone help him do that.”

  Just yesterday David had refused to let Darla weed the flower garden, afraid she’d hurt herself on the prickly thorns of the cholla.

  Was Susannah right? Was he holding her back?

  No. Susannah was full of advice, but she wasn’t the one who had to rescue Darla when something bad happened, or calm her when life didn’t go her way.

  “She’s been asking Susannah questions about the baby all day.” Connie chuckled. “She’s very excited.”

  “Connie.” David frowned as he struggled to find the right words. “I’m sure Susannah is a nice person. And I’m guessing something bad landed her here, but—”

  “Something bad? You could say that,” Connie said, her voice harsh. “She married a guy she thought loved her. When he found out she was pregnant, he told her they weren’t actually married at all and he kicked her out.” She smiled grimly. “Susannah has a long history of those she trusts letting her down, so much so that she doesn’t believe she’s worthy of love.”

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  “Give her a chance, David,” Connie pleaded. “Susannah’s smart, she’s funny, but most of all, she is good for Darla. Isn’t that the kind of caregiver you want?”

  What he wanted was a stranger, someone with no ties to him, who would come in, do her job and leave without affecting him. Susannah was beautiful, he’d already noticed that. And she was pregnant.

  There would be complications if he hired her. Lots of them.

  I don’t have to get personally involved, other than making sure she’s medically fit for work and that she can handle Darla. There’s no need for me to treat Susannah Wells as anything more than an employee.

  Somewhere in the recesses of his brain David heard mocking laughter.

  Like he hadn’t already noticed her intense eyes, fine-limbed figure or model-perfect face.

  “David?” Connie’s voice prodded him back to reality.

  Laughter, sweet and carefree, floated into the family room from the courtyard. Susannah. She stood in a patch of light, gilded by the silvery beams, her delicate features faintly pink from the exertion of tossing a ball. She looked the same age as Darla.

  “How old is she?” he asked.

  “Twenty-two. Just.” Connie frowned. “Does her age matter?”

  Three years older than Darla. And about to be a mother.

  “Come on, Darla,” Susannah cheered. “You can throw it all the way from there. I know you can.”

  And Darla did.

  “I’ll give her a trial period of two weeks,” David told Connie. “If she finds the work too hard or Darla too difficult, she can back out. I just hope Darla doesn’t change her mind and blow up.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen, David.” Connie laughed. “Just look at the two of them.”

  Susannah and Darla stood together, arms around each other’s waists as they watched Silver dive into the pool. Susannah said something to Darla, who was now clad in a swimsuit. When had that happened?

  David jumped to his feet. Darla was scared of water. She panicked when it closed over her head and after being rescued, always took hours of calming. And then came the nightmares.

  “No!” he yelled.

  But he was too late. Darla jumped into the pool. The water closed over her body. David rushed outside, furious that he hadn’t been paying enough attention. He saw her black swimsuit sink to the bottom and yanked off his shirt.

  “Wait.” Susannah pulled on his arm. “Give her a chance.”

  “She hates it,” he hissed. “She freezes underwater.”

  But after what seemed an eternity, Darla resurfaced and began to move, pushing herself across the pool until she reached the other side. She grabbed the side, gasping for air but grinning.

  “I did it.” She pumped her fist in the air. “Did you see, Susannah? I did it.”

  “I knew you would.” Susannah smiled at her, watching as Darla darted through the shallow water to chase Silver. “You have to believe in her, David,” she murmured. “Otherwise, how will she believe in herself?”

  Then Susannah turned away, found a lounger and sank into it, her attention wholly focused on the pair in the pool.

  She was
right.

  That was the thing that shocked David the most. This girl, seven years his junior with no training, not only saw Darla’s potential but helped his sister find it.

  He walked toward her.

  “I’d like to offer you a job,” he said. “But only if you are checked out by a doctor and he okays you to work with Darla. It would be only a few hours a day with perhaps some time on Saturdays.” He told her how much he was willing to pay.

  “There’s a catch, isn’t there?” Susannah said after a long silence, during which she studied him with those intense green eyes. “What is it?”

  David didn’t hesitate.

  “Every activity you plan has to be approved by me,” he told her.

  “Every one?” She smiled. “Wow, you are a control freak, aren’t you?”

  “I insist on keeping my sister safe,” he said firmly. “That’s my condition.”

  “I see.” Susannah’s scrutiny didn’t diminish. After a long silence she frowned. “Did you ever consider that you might be keeping her too safe?”

  “No.” He wasn’t going to start out with her questioning his rules. “I’d like to start with a trial period of two weeks. Do you want the job or not?”

  She kept him waiting, a blond beauty whose pink cheeks had been freshly kissed by the sun. Finally she nodded once. “Yes.”

  “Good. As soon as you get the doctor’s approval, you can start.” He turned to leave.

  “I have a condition of my own.”

  He wheeled around, frustrated by the way she challenged him. “Which is?”

  “When you disagree with my suggestions, and you will disagree,” Susannah said, her smile kicking up the corners of her pretty lips, “will you at least try to understand that I’m making them for Darla’s benefit?”

  What did she think—that he was some bitter, angry, power monger who had to lord it over everyone to feel complete?

  “I’ll listen,” David agreed, staring at her midriff. “As long as you promise you won’t take any undue chances.”

  “With the baby?” Her face tightened. “No,” she said firmly. “I want my baby to be healthy. I won’t risk anything for that. That’s one thing I don’t intend to mess up.”

  “Then we have a deal.”

  David turned and walked away.

  That’s one thing I don’t intend to mess up.

  For the rest of the day, David couldn’t stop speculating on Susannah’s comment. What—or who—had let Susannah down, making her believe she had to earn love?

  He found no satisfactory answers to stop his thoughts about Darla’s newest caregiver—at least, that’s how he should be thinking of the beautiful Susannah Wells.

  Chapter Four

  Two weeks later Susannah stirred under the November sun, stretched and blinked. The scene in front of her brought her wide awake.

  “Do you like it?” Darla preened, scissors dangling from one finger.

  “Um, it’s different.” Susannah slid her legs to one side and slowly rose. Thankfully her recent light-headedness seemed to have abated. She lifted the scissors from Darla’s hands and put them on the patio table. “Let’s put these away.”

  She’d slept a full eight hours last night. It wasn’t as if she was tired. And yet, one minute of sun and she went out like a light. Sleeping on the job. David would be furious.

  “Why did you cut off the bottom of your dress, sweetie?” Susannah asked.

  “I don’t like this dress,” Darla grumbled. She flopped down into a chair. “Davy says it’s nice but I think it’s ugly.”

  “Because it’s black?” Susannah asked. “But you look good in black. You have the right coloring.”

  Darla didn’t look at her. Instead she drew her knees to her chin and peered into space.

  “Why so serious?” Susannah laid a hand on the shiny dark head. “What are you thinking about, honey?”

  “When my mom died, it was like today,” Darla whispered. “There were leaves falling off the trees.”

  And you wore a black dress.

  “Black isn’t only for funerals, you know, Darla,” she soothed. “Evening wear is often black because it looks so dressy. And a lot of women wear black to look slimmer.”

  “Am I fat?” Darla asked, eyes widening.

  “No! Of course you’re not. I didn’t mean that.” Susannah couldn’t tell what was going on in the girl’s mind, so she waited.

  “Black clothes don’t show marks when you spill stuff,” the whisper came a minute later.

  “Oh?” Something told Susannah to proceed very carefully.

  “Davy and me went out for pizza last night. It was good, but I spilled.”

  “I’m sure the pizza people didn’t care. Restaurants are used to spills,” Susannah encouraged. “Besides, everyone gets messy eating pizza.”

  “Davy didn’t. He had on a white shirt.” Darla wouldn’t look at her. “I wore my soccer shirt. It got stains. I looked like a baby.”

  Darla was worried about her appearance?

  “Davy was embarr—” She frowned, unable to find the word.

  “Embarrassed? I don’t think David gets embarrassed.” Susannah wasn’t sure she completely understood what was behind these comments. But it was time to find out why her clothes bothered Darla. She held out a hand. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” Darla asked, taking Susannah’s hand to help her rise.

  “To look at your closet.”

  “Okay.” Darla picked up the scissors.

  “Without those,” she added hastily.

  “Oh.” Darla put them back, then led the way to her room.

  As they poked through the contents of the closet for the rest of the afternoon, Susannah watched Darla’s reaction to each item. Mostly negative. Susannah had no idea how much time had passed when a sardonic voice in the doorway asked, “Did you lose something?”

  “Oh. Hi.” Darla had a point, Susannah decided. David looked as neat and pristine as he’d probably looked when he left the house this morning. She felt rumpled and dingy even being in the same room. “We’re taking inventory.”

  “Ah.” He blinked. “I’m going to change. You won’t—er, leave the room like that, will you?”

  “I think so.” Susannah winked at Darla. “Has a certain carefree look, don’t you think?”

  But Darla didn’t laugh. Instead she rose and began scooping up handfuls of hangers and placing them on the rod in her closet.

  “I’ll make it good, Davy,” she said as she scurried back and forth.

  “What happened to your dress?” he asked, staring at the ragged, sawed-off hem.

  “Oh, that,” Susannah said, noting Darla’s flush of embarrassment. “I’m afraid that’s a fashion plan gone wrong.”

  “You did it deliberately?” Pure shock robbed all expression from his face.

  “It was unplanned,” she hedged. “But the dress didn’t work in its original state anyway.”

  “It worked for—never mind.” His mouth drooped before he quickly closed it. He turned to leave, then stopped and turned back, dark eyes suspicious. “Did anything else happen today?”

  “We did a little work in the back flower bed. Darla’s really good at planting and we both like mums, so we planted a few pots.”

  “Then I owe you some money.” He nodded. “If you’ll meet me downstairs in a few minutes, I’ll pay you.”

  “Good idea. I want to talk to you anyway.” Susannah frowned. Was that fear flickering through his tawny eyes? Of her? “Five minutes?”

  He nodded and left.

  “Davy paid for my clothes. He likes them. So do I,” Darla insisted loudly. She hurried to get the clothes hung, and in her haste the hangers dangled helter-skelter.

  “Hey, slow down,” Susannah chuckled. “I helped create this mess. I’m going to help you clean it up.” By showing Darla how to group clothes, they reorganized the closet and rearranged the drawers. She paused when she pulled out an old pair of almost-white jeans tu
cked at the back of the closet. “How come you never wear these, Darla?”

  “Davy doesn’t like them. And I’m too big.” Darla took them from her and relegated them to their hiding place. She took off the dress she’d cut and drew on another exactly the same except it was navy instead of black.

  Clearly Darla didn’t want to irritate the brother who had done so much for her. A lump of pity swelled in Susannah’s throat. Darla was willing to be unhappy rather than tell her brother she hated her clothes.

  They walked downstairs together. Mrs. Peters, David’s housekeeper, asked Darla to set the table just as he came loping down the stairs.

  “Now how much do I owe you for the flowers?”

  Susannah glanced down the hall, grabbed his elbow and drew him into his study. She closed the door.

  “We have to make this quick before she finishes the table.”

  “Make what quick?” he asked, one eyebrow elegantly arched.

  “Listen, I want to take Darla shopping,” she explained.

  “Shopping?” He nodded. “More flowers?”

  “New clothes.” She held up a hand. “You’re going to say her clothes are almost new. I’m sure someone at the goodwill center will appreciate that.”

  “You cut her dress because you don’t like her clothes,” he guessed, a frown line marring the smooth perfection of his forehead. “Um—”

  “Darla cut it. Because she hates it. And the rest of her clothes.” Susannah flopped onto a couch and crossed her feet under her. “I can’t say I blame her.”

  His chest puffed out. His face got that indignant look and his caramel eyes turned brittle. Susannah gulped. Okay, that could have been worded differently.

  “What I mean is—”

  “You mean her clothes aren’t trendy. No holes in her jeans, no skintight shirts,” he snapped. “Ms. Wells, my sister’s clothes are from an expensive store. They are the best—”

  “—money can buy,” she finished. “I’m sure they are.” She sat back and waited for him to cool down.

  David continued to glare at her. Eventually he sat down and sighed. “Explain, please.”